


I'm A Mess

by ParagonDeLurid



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Depression, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, Homelessness, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Inspired by a Bebe Rexha Song, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Recovery, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-02 06:31:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19193593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParagonDeLurid/pseuds/ParagonDeLurid
Summary: In which Namjoon is a drug addict dealing with depression and self harm in a mental hospital, and Jungkook is his loving anorexic boyfriend.





	I'm A Mess

**Author's Note:**

> **IMPORTANT TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING:** mentions of self harm, eating disorder (anorexia) behaviors, and purging. Nothing graphic is described, but these topics are talked about and a main focus of this story. I don't recommend you read this if you'd be easily triggered by eating disorders. Please keep yourself safe.  
> Use of drugs is also included.
> 
> Inspired by a FMV I made for a song by Bebe Rexha called "I'm a Mess" - Just ignore the lyrics that say "he don't love me."

 

\--

"Name?"

"Jungkook Jeon."

"And who are you here to see?"

"Namjoon Kim."

"Alright, I'll find his nurse and she can bring you to him."

The lady behind the desk quickly left and disappeared around the corner. At this time, an airy sigh left Jungkook's lips. Every time he came to visit Namjoon, the lady acted like she didn't recognize him. She repeated this little game every week, asking for his name and playing ignorant. It was a formality, no doubt, but it bothered him nonetheless. Worse still, each time the guards had to search him at the door. They looked through his pockets and backpack for sharp objects or any signs of dangerous items he might bring to patients. Jungkook never did, of course, but they did it anyway. He understood why, don't get him wrong, but the burly men who served as security pat him down in a way that made Jungkook's bones hurt.

Oh, right, he forgot to mention that Namjoon is in a mental hospital; he dealt with severe depression. That and his tendency to self-harm landed Namjoon involuntarily in a unit. It wasn't even Jungkook who got him hospitalized. No, it was an old friend of theirs, who'd seen fresh (and bad) cuts on the elder's wrists. Although Jungkook couldn't help every time, he was the only one Namjoon came to when he wanted to self-harm. And, when he did cut, Jungkook cleaned him up and never made him feel guilty.

No matter how much Jungkook wanted Namjoon to get help, he understood how hard it was to recover when it wasn't your own choice. Although Jungkook didn't deal with the same demons, he understood the other's struggle. Well, Jungkook had depression, too, but it wasn't near as bad as Namjoon's. Actually, Jungkook's biggest vice was his eating disorder. The only reason Jungkook wasn't in the hospital, too, was because he'd become good at hiding his habits. In fact, most of his friends didn't even know that he suffered from anorexia. Namjoon did, though, because he wasn't _just_ Jungkook's friend.

"Jungkook?" A feminine called, snapping the young man out of his thoughts.

Said young man looked up to the doorway, replying with a quick, "Yes?"

"I'm Namjoon's nurse for the day, my name's Marianne," the short woman took a few strides toward him, offering a hand. After a quick shake, she added, "I'll bring you to him,” and led him through bland, white-walled corridor he'd come to know well. Nothing decorated these walls, and the hallway never seemed to end. "He's just finished his dinner and is in his room now," said the red-haired nurse, withdrawing a chain of keys from the pocket of her scrubs. She had her back to Jungkook and couldn't see him wince at the word "dinner."

Once they reached an all too familiar door, the woman unlocked the door and opened it wide. "I'll be nearby for when you're done," said Marianne. Jungkook only nodded and stepped into the room. The nurse closed the door behind him.

Unfortunately, whenever Namjoon stayed in his room, the nurses locked the door. They needed certain safety precautions because of Namjoon's tendency to hurt himself and his attempts to leave. Again, surrendering to recovery wasn't easy for Namjoon. He also had a drug addiction, and being in the hospital forced him to quit cold turkey. And the man was under a section, which meant he couldn't check himself out until he was deemed not a danger to himself.

Jungkook shook his head, bringing himself out of his thoughts. Striding further into the room, the young man forced a smile. "Hi, Nams," he said, sitting on the edge of the small bed.

The older of the two finally looked up from his book, just now noticing who came into the room. A smile spread across his face, "Hi, babe."

Jungkook scooted further onto the bed as Namjoon put his book down. “I brought you your sketchbook,” said the younger, pulling it from his backpack and setting it on the bed. He then settled into the elder's arms, the fit perfect. "I missed you," Jungkook murmured. It'd been a whole week since he'd last come to the hospital, what with his busy schedule at college.

"How'd your art project go?" Namjoon wondered, burying his nose in the younger's hair. He smelled like lemon and coconut.

The young artist wrinkled his nose, "Alright, I guess. I got a B."

"B's are good," the other replied.

"I guess," Jungkook mumbled. Sometimes he couldn't help his perfectionism... well, _most_ times. "How's therapy?" He asked instead.

Namjoon grunted, "fine... boring," and he quickly changed the subject, too. "Have you eaten dinner yet, babe?"

The younger sighed against the other's tan skin, "no, not yet."

“Have you purged, Kookie?” Namjoon continued.

The younger whined under his breath, “Hyung, can we _please_ not talk about that here?”

"No one can hear us, baby. Please?"

"Just... a couple times," Jungkook whispered. He really didn't do it often. Jungkook didn't have bulimia, but sometimes it felt like he ate too much and then he couldn't help it just... doing _that_.

Then came Namjoon's turn to sigh. He took his boyfriend's boney hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over Jungkook's veins. "It could kill you," the elder murmured.

Jungkook didn't respond to that. He couldn't. He sat up straight from where he'd been leaning against Namjoon's chest. Jungkook flipped the elder's hand over in his own, resting his other palm on the scars covering Namjoon's wrist. "So could these," he added.

"I know," Namjoon said, "I'm sorry. I love you, baby."

"I love you, too, Nams."

\--

Jungkook drove home with tears in his eyes. He didn't cry, not yet, the drops never left his ducts. He had to wait for the privacy of the bedroom before he broke down. Namjoon was hurting, and it was partially his fault. He was _destroying_ himself in front of the man he loved. Yes, it upset him when Namjoon harmed himself, too, but at least the older was getting help. Unfortunately, Jungkook didn't know how to live without his eating disorder; he'd had it for so long. And, logically, he knew his boyfriend had problems of his own and that Jungkook couldn't be to blame, but old habits die hard.

Jungkook's mother and father ingrained guilt in him since childhood. They weren't really _exemplary_ parents. In his high school years, they didn't want him to join the dance program or pursue his drawing skills. Instead, they pushed him to go to med school and become a doctor... like them. His eating disorder developed during that time, out of his need to control something, _anything_. It got even worse when he was seventeen and came out to them as gay. They kicked him out, but couldn't _stand_ to have their poor pride hurt. They put him in an apartment far away and paid for it as long as he stayed out of their lives and never speak of his sexuality to anyone they knew. His mom and dad couldn't bear their dear friends realizing they kicked their son to the street, even less that he was gay, and just pretended he moved away for college. Screw his parents and their pride.

With the scholarships he'd won and the part-time jobs he worked, Jungkook barely clawed his way into art school at eighteen. Namjoon was an artist, too, as well as an underground rapper, but couldn't afford college between his little income and drug addiction. Jungkook met the man during the first weeks at a new job he'd started once classes began. He'd noticed a truck often parked on the side of the road near his restaurant and that a man slept in its bed every night. Because he worked as a waiter there, the restaurant allowed Jungkook to make lunch from ingredients in the fridge. With that information in mind, Jungkook brought the man in the truck a simple lunch one day.

"I t-thought you might be hungry," Jungkook stuttered, offering the haggard man a sandwich in a plastic bag. He couldn't have been more than a few years older than Jungkook, but the bags under his eyes aged him. The guy's hair was greasy and unkempt, his clothes dirty and torn, and he reeked of weed. Yet... his deep brown eyes held kindness. The man thanked him graciously, pointed out Jungkook's name tag, and said he, "I'm Namjoon."

Jungkook had smiled, stumbling awkwardly back to the restaurant. He brought Namjoon lunch every day after that. No one needed to know that it meant he wasn't eating; that didn't matter.

They became good friends over time, and the manager of Jungkook's workplace didn't want Namjoon leaving his truck near the building anymore, so the man moved. They still hung out, and it grew easier; Namjoon began parking closer to Jungkook's apartment complex. Sometimes he'd climb into the passenger seat, and then Namjoon would take him off somewhere. More often than not, they'd find themselves in a big field at night, watching the stars from the comfort of a big, brown blanket while smoking weed. During one of these sessions - a few months after they met - Jungkook found himself on top of the older, kissing him. _A lot_. And Namjoon kissed him back. _A lot_.

Awhile after realizing their attraction to each other, they began dating. Sometimes the two sat in a coffee shop and drew together. Most often, though, stargazing was their date of choice. While weed, cigarettes, and booze were their dinner. Granted, _Namjoon_ ate but more often than not, Jungkook didn't. Namjoon started to notice things, and realized a reason to Jungkook's wafer-thin appearance existed.

The younger tried to brush him off, but Namjoon knew better. It became even harder to hide when the elder spent more time over. They were sleeping in the same bed, Namjoon's arms around his waist. Half the time they spent in Jungkook's apartment, the other half sleeping in the back of Namjoon's truck. Each time, he felt everything that Jungkook's baggy clothes hid.

Jungkook didn't learn about Namjoon's self-harm until much later. After almost a year of dating, Jungkook invited Namjoon to move in with him. The older man accepted after a bit of convincing, not wanting to bother the college student. Due to living together, Namjoon's secret became harder to hide. It happened when he got out of the shower and went to their bedroom to get dressed. He had fresh marks on his wrist and up his arm. The man thought Jungkook was distracted enough by his book, that he could get a shirt on before the younger noticed. Unfortunately, Namjoon had no such luck.

"Hyung, what's that?" Jungkook asked, abandoning the book on their bed and coming over.

"It's nothing," the elder tried to argue, but Jungkook grabbed his wrist and turned it over. Tears filled the young man's eyes, and he quickly tackled Namjoon in a hug. They moved to the bed, and the elder held Jungkook in his arms while he cried, whispering I love you to Namjoon.

Now they've been living together for two years. Namjoon was in the hospital, and Jungkook was driving back to an empty home to cry in his empty bed.

\--

Days later, Jungkook paced around the living room as he bit his nails. Back and forth, he went, over and over. Earlier that day, he'd been in his dance class and gotten a few specific comments from the teacher.

"Jungkook, you lack energy."

"Jungkook, go get a snack."

"Jungkook, go home, you look like you're going to pass out."

The young man sat himself down on the couch, burying his face in his hands. This was supposed to make him a _better_ dancer, not worse. The hunger _motivated_ him to earn the small snack he allowed himself after practice. The weight loss made it easier to dance. If that was the case, why did it seem like everything was crumbling around him? His dance teacher had forced him to eat a snack, right there in front of the class. Of course, no one there knew about his issues with food and couldn't have realized they literally drove him crazy. Anyway, the snack had been a granola bar, and he'd checked the back of it; high calorie, high sugar, high _fat_. It took everything in him to not have a panic attack in the middle of the class. Well, here he was now having a panic attack in his living room instead.

The problem is that his brain was trying to convince him to purge, but he didn't want to. Not really. His eating disorder wanted him to, but truly Jungkook just wanted to sleep. It's just a _bit_ difficult to rest when you're panicking. Panicking because he'd get fat, that his dancing would suffer, and that everything would be _so much better_ if he threw it up. Worrying that his boyfriend wouldn't love him unless he was perfect.

That thought. _That one_. That one wasn't true, and he _knew_ it. Namjoon... he was the one helped Jungkook eat. He was the who sat Jungkook on his lap after dinner and kissed him 'till he forgot. The one who praised him when he ate, told Jungkook how he was _so proud._ The one who kept talking or watched a movie with him as a distraction. Namjoon was the one who told Jungkook that he was handsome and perfect as is.

Tears spilling down his cheeks, the young dancer got up on shaky legs and headed to the bedroom. He knew what would help. A rolled joint sat in a small baggie in the drawer to their desk. Maybe it wasn't healthy to lie in bed, crying and smoking weed, but it calmed him down. Right then, that was all he wanted: to calm down and sleep.

\--

Jungkook awoke who knows how long later, with arms shaking his shoulders. He'd dropped the weed cigarette in the garbage can by the bed before falling asleep, but whoever this was still found Jungkook sleeping, smelling of marijuana and with dried tear tracks on his cheeks. But that voice, he couldn't quite understand it yet, still half asleep. The deep voice sounded very familiar but... that _couldn't_ be, _could_ it?

"Kookie," said the voice, "baby, wake up."

Jungkook eased his eyes open, bringing his fists up to rub sleep from his eyes. He blinked a few times before whispering in disbelief, " _Nams_?"

The man wore a big jacket and a baseball cap, leaning over the bed to look at him. Realizing what this meant, Jungkook sat up and threw his arms around the elder's shoulders, nuzzling into Namjoon's neck. "How're you here?" Jungkook murmured, "I thought they wouldn't be releasing you for a while."

After properly sitting down on the bed, Namjoon glanced away nervously. "Well... they _didn't_."

Jungkook leaned back from against the man, eyebrows furrowed, "What do you mean, 'they didn't.'"

"I escaped."

Jungkook let out a sigh, shaking his head. " _Hyung_..." he trailed off, "you can't do this. You have to go back, try to get better."

"But we could finally be together and happy. I promise," said the older of the artists, taking Jungkook's hands in his.

"They'll have the police looking for you, Nams, it wouldn't last. People know we live together."

"I know," Namjoon agreed, "that's why we need to leave."

Jungkook's eyes widened, and he stuttered out, "L-leave? But I haven't even finished college!"

"Please, Kookie," Namjoon begged, "I don't want to go back there."

The younger sighed, resting his head back on his boyfriend's shoulder. He stayed there for a few minutes, thinking, his mind still working slow from the weed he smoked earlier that day. After almost fifteen minutes, Jungkook lifted his head and kissed Namjoon on the cheek. "Okay," he said, "let's go."

They spent the next half an hour packing two bags, filling them with essential items and clothes. They rushed around the room, moving like tandem tornadoes and creating chaos in their wake. Eventually, Namjoon came to find his knife, which he stored in their nightstand drawer. Realistically, Jungkook knew he should've hidden that knife long ago, but in actuality, he was scared to. Namjoon could be pretty protective of it.

"Nams," Jungkook whispered, coming up behind Namjoon and resting his hand over the elder's, "please no more cutting... no more drugs. _Please_." It might sound funny coming from someone who smoked weed just hours before, but he really wanted some semblance of normalcy between them.

Namjoon's hands left the knife, and he turned around, wrapping his arms around Jungkook's waist. "I'll try," he agreed, "if you try to not purge."

They held eye contact for a good thirty seconds before Jungkook nodded. "I can try, Hyung," he whispered.

"Then let's go, yeah?" Namjoon asked.

"Yeah," Jungkook agreed, nodding softly, a few tears forming in his eyes. He'd just agreed to give up his biggest eating disorder behavior and was leaving his life behind.

"I love you, baby," Namjoon brushed the fingers of his free hand through Jungkook's hair and kissed the young man gently.

And then Jungkook woke up.

\--

Jungkook drove to the hospital the very next day, in the early afternoon. He'd fought with the front desk to let him see Namjoon - visiting hours weren't until seven - but he'd asked for the nurse and out came one he'd seen many times with Namjoon.

"Please, Anna, I _need_ to see him." Jungkook was practically begging, he might as be on his knees.

She sighed, before nodding, "I suppose, I can make an exception." Anna took the lanyard of keys from around her neck, "Come on, I'll take you to his room."

And she did, letting him in and locking the door behind him. Needless to say, Namjoon was shocked at the sudden appearance of his boyfriend before visitation hours.

"Kookie, why'd they let you in? Is something wrong?" The elder questioned quickly, looking quite panicked.

"I just needed to see you, Hyung," he settled on the older's bed, where Namjoon sat - as always. "C-can," Jungkook stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper, "can I just have a hug?"

"Of course, baby," Namjoon said, opening his arms immediately. Jungkook scooted over quickly, settling into the older's chest with an airy sigh. "Now tell me what happened," the elder murmured, beginning to run his fingers through the other's hair.

"I had dance class yesterday," he began, expression hidden in his boyfriend's neck, "and I almost passed out."

"You hadn't eaten anything all day, had you?" Questioned the elder, predicting it exactly.

"Yeah," Jungkook nodded in agreement, "and the teacher made me eat in front of the class."

"Oh, baby," Namjoon murmured, cupping the younger's face in his hands and bringing it into view, "I know how hard that must've been for you."

"I wanted to throw it up," Jungkook whispered, a few tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"Did you do it?"

The younger slowly shook his head, adding, "no, but I smoked weed to calm down."

"But I'm still so proud of you, Kookie," Namjoon said, pulling him closer and kissing his forehead, "you were strong and brave, and you didn't give in."

"When I fell asleep," the younger continued, "I dreamt you escaped again."

"Really?"

Again, Jungkook nodded, "You came home to me, and we were gonna run away... I made you promise to not self-harm anymore, and I promised to not purge."

"Then what happened?" Namjoon wondered, hand cupping the other's cheek.

"You kissed me, and I woke up," the tears that had been gathering in his eyes for a while finally spilled over, rolling down Jungkook's cheeks.

“Why're you crying, baby?” The elder asked, rubbing the salty drops away with his thumb.

"It feels so _stupid_ ," the younger whined, scrubbing at the tears with his fists, "but neither of us ever promised something like that, and... and I thought we might _finally_ be happy." Jungkook paused, sniffling, "I'm just... so d- _done_."

"What are you trying to say, baby?" At this point, the elder was getting concerned. Exactly how done was Jungkook?

“Nams, I'm checking myself in today,” Jungkook said, another tear rolling down his cheek as he frowned, “I'm ready to get better. I don't want to be this way anymore. I don't want to _hurt_ anymore.” He took Namjoon's hand in his and linked their fingers, "I want to be happy again."

"What about college?" Namjoon wondered. Don't get him wrong, he wanted Jungkook to start recovery. Namjoon lived in a constant state of fear that his boyfriend's anorexia would kill him. However, one of Jungkook's biggest excuses for not getting treatment was his fear of it getting in the way of college.

"I can get a medical absence, and I think I can make peace with that," Jungkook said, resting his head on the elder's shoulder.

"Do you want me to call the nurse?" Namjoon asked, already reaching for the cord with a small button that rested on his nightstand.

"Yes, please," the younger murmured.

Just like that, Namjoon pressed the button. So they waited. Jungkook adjusted himself in the elder's lap, sitting sideways and resting his head in the crook of Namjoon's neck.

Within a few minutes, the same nurse from earlier - Anna - unlocked the door. "Is everything alright in here?" She wondered, looking around the room with concern.

"Yes, Nurse Cooper, it's fine," Namjoon assured here, while Jungkook took in a deep breath and sat up.

Once the young man steeled his nerves, he looked up at her and said, “I'd like to check myself in.”

She looked shocked, “For what?”

Jungkook shut his eyes, leaning against his boyfriend again for support and willing himself to not cry in front of the nurse. “For anorexia,” he whispered after a moment.

The nurse's eyes softened, and she nodded. “I'll get the paperwork for you, and you can stay here while you fill it out. Then we can see if a doctor is available to assess you.”

As she left the room, Jungkook turned toward Namjoon and started sobbing into his chest.

“I'm proud of you, baby,” Namjoon whispered into his hair, “so proud.”

That day, Jungkook finally surrendered to the long process of recovery. Maybe it would be the push Namjoon needed to surrender as well.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know I didn't describe the recovery part much, and I know there are people who take issue with that. Personally, I never experienced recovery in a hospital setting, and therefore don't know how it works. I hope my intent for this story came across. I never wanted it to be (and hope it does seem like it is) here for no purpose other than to trigger people. I wanted to show process of realizing you don't want your eating disorder anymore. I wanted to show how sick people can care about each other when they don't care about themselves. I hope my purpose came across. Thank you for reading. I hope I haven't triggered you and, if I have, please know I care about you. Stay safe.


End file.
